test drive meme # 38

[hadrielmods]

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open November 24th, and apps are open December 1st. Please remember that there is an app cap of 20 apps.

Two quick points here as well:

1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC MOTHERFUCKER
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Of course, a War Unicorn may not seem too lethal, but anyone who's seen Cabin in the Woods knows that they pack a powerful, uh, stab (cw for gore). War Unicorns are mighty beasts, larger than most horses and made of raw muscle. They might seem cute and cuddly in concept, but they're trained to use their horns to blind their opponents before trampling over them with their ironclad hooves and their two thousand pound bulk.

Want to try to bring one down? It's harder than it looks, thanks to their natural magic resistance- many offensive abilities and spells simply don't work on them, and you might piss them off if you try, so be careful...]

C O N F U S I O N

SCENARIO TWO: REMEMBER ME
[It may have just been a brush against the shoulder, a quick handshake, a simple hug- but at the first touch of skin on skin, suddenly you see the other person's memories. This can range anywhere from a recent moment to something traumatic from their past and can be done willingly, if you like.

Of course, once you realize what's going on, you might want to bundle up and avoid contact with everyone- though you might look a little strange, so don't be surprised if someone asks you what you're doing!

This is a mini version of our Memories Past event this month.]

T R A N Q U I L I T Y

SCENARIO THREE: PASS THE TURKEY
[It's that special time of year again, where you get to hang out with people you only kinda sorta know and catch up with every other month or so and pretend that you're all really close for the sake of food.

Because of course, there's a splendid feast waiting for you- juicy turkey and warm stuffing and your very favorite potato dish! The only downside is that you have to spend your evening with these losers, but we're sure you'll find something to talk about!

Well- maybe not religion, relationships, or politics. How 'bout that weather we're having?]

Comments

[bloodbathing]

[ "Chorus" isn't a name that Maine knows, but that's hardly noteworthy. He can't be expected to know the name of every single planet under UNSC jurisdiction, much less those that have slipped outside of it. Wash's smile is far more significant. It means that his friend has good memories of the place. Means that it didn't end badly.

Which, in Maine's mind, indicates only one thing: Chorus didn't get glassed.

At Wash's next statement, Maine slowly raises his eyebrows in a picture-perfect display of incredulity. Those soldiers ended up decent? Seriously? He's not buying it. ]

[hardwearing]

[ That expression isn't missed, but it only makes Wash smile broader. ]

My standards have changed. They weren't great fighters, but they were good enough to stay alive and they pulled off the plan almost seamlessly. Timing, placement, followed orders even though they were terrified... they might not have had any fancy moves but they came together and organized and fought like hell against actually good fighters.

[ And they were his, in a way. Maybe it was all just dumb luck here and there, but he's not going to write it all off as that anymore. There was also cleverness here and there, fast thinking and being smart enough to fall back on their training, their orders. And... in a weird way? The Army of Chorus had kind of taken a page from Maine's book. ]

They shouldn't have won, with what they were up against. But they didn't give up. Just got back up. You might like them.

[bloodbathing]

[ Maine makes a face at Wash's assertion, but he doesn't argue. Nor does he agree. Instead, he raises his glass and finally gets to drinking his water.

It's ... not exactly a pleasant sensation. The act of swallowing drags his attention to his throat, highlighting every single difference and making the wrongness worse than usual. Stubbornly, he distracts himself by mentally replaying Wash's words about the soldiers on Chorus. Pushes his mind towards memories of past battles; thinks of new recruits who pissed themselves at the sight of hinge-heads, but still managed to complete the mission.

It's a good distraction. And, by the time Maine takes a break from his glass, he's willing to give Wash a grudging grunt of agreement.

When Wash puts it that way, he guesses he might like them. ]

[hardwearing]

[ With the coffee brewing, Wash pulls down two mugs and then reaches for the bread to make himself some toast. That's about when Maine gives his little grunt of agreement, and however belated it is it still makes Wash oddly happy. Their track record with saving the dead so far in Hadriel hasn't been great, Tex and Alpha and York all going back before anything could be done for them, but although his instincts scream not to get his hopes up... it's Maine. He can't help it. Maybe there'll be a way Maine can meet his recruits after all.

His bread in the toaster, the bag gets lifted in Maine's direction to ask if he wants any, without words. His other hand comes up to touch his own throat -- would toast be okay? They can come up with something gentler, even if everything here is canned or preserved or powdered. ]

You want to raid the cupboards instead?

[bloodbathing]

[ Another person might miss the downward twitch at the corner of Maine's mouth, or the way the broad line of his shoulders tenses when Wash touches his own throat. To Wash, however, the slight changes in body language may well be an open book. It's stubbornness. Determination. An obstinate refusal to back down.

It's the same attitude that makes Maine so terrifying in a fight. And it's the same one that urges him forward when he should ask for help. That keeps him silent through pain and causes him to brush helping hands away with a snarl.

(The same attitude that made him such a malleable puppet in Sigma's grasp.)

Maine hates feeling weak. Always has. So he shakes his head and indicates the bread with a jerk of his chin. He wants toast. ]

[hardwearing]

Okay.

[ Wash doesn't question it, just pulls out another four slices (because it's Maine) and sets them on a plate while the first two go in, then nudges one of the mugs over towards his friend. Not passing it, making sure they don't accidentally brush against each other again, but here. A mug. Coffee's almost got a cup's worth already, Maine can have first dibs.

He wants to know how it's feeling. If Maine is still in pain, or if it's just difficult. How he's adjusting to no one else understanding him -- whether he spoke much or not before, it was an option. Now it isn't. But Wash doesn't ask any of these things.

Instead he just makes them breakfast, such as it is. Wonders if he should've offered pancakes, but now it'll look like he's making them just for Maine's throat and they'd be rejected. Maybe he's overthinking, but it's safer to stick with the plan. Besides, the bread needs to get eaten, Delmar likes his visits. Wash can ask him for some softer rolls, next time. A little more subtlety in his concern. ]

How'd you sleep?

[ That's what he finally asks when they're sitting down at the table with toast and coffee, an unidentified jam the only available spread. ]

[bloodbathing]

[ Wash's instincts are correct: Maine would indeed reject anything softer than toast. It might be easier to eat or even more filling, but Maine would still refuse it. That, or he'd eat it and the toast just to prove that he could.

It's a good thing that Maine's always been content to follow rather than lead. He's a bit like a runaway truck when he sets his mind on something. Sure, it's possible to stop him — giving him an order is often the most reliable way to do it — but it's not easy. All things that make him great in a fight ... and also make him a bit of an asshole to deal with in day-to-day life.

But Wash doesn't push, and Maine doesn't dig in his heels. He accepts the mug with a hum of thanks, happy to snag some of the coffee. And, by the time he joins Wash at the table, the tension in his frame brought on by the touchy subject has faded.

Wash's question gets a little shrug. Maine's attention is more on spreading jam than on thinking about the previous night. After a moment, he follows it with a grunt:

"New place."

Which says enough, he thinks. He can nod off pretty much anywhere, anytime — it's a skill he picked up after enlisting and later perfected as an ODST — but it's not the most restful sleep.

With a slight lift of his eyebrows, he turns the question back: you? ]

[hardwearing]

Not bad, but I know the feeling, I had a hard time at first here too.

[ And... everywhere, sort of always. Wash doesn't ever sleep well by a normal person's standards, plagued by nightmares. Kyna helps, though. HIs average amount of restful sleep per night has increased dramatically, just by having someone there to help when he wakes up in a state. He used to feel bad about it, waking her, keeping her up. Now he's mostly accepted that it's just something she wants to do for him, for reasons beyond his comprehension. ]